Barricades & Brickwalls
by the2julies
Summary: By Carly & Kassandra the2julies "In your opinion, the only thing that would’ve been more obvious would’ve been to stride right across the bullpen and kiss her straight on the mouth.” 6 months after the wedding, Emily and JJ meet again
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1 _

_JJ_

"Something else, ma'am?"

No reply.

The woman behind the counter looks at you inquiringly, but it's the slight impatience in her tone that brings you back to the present. You thoughts were everywhere but on your grocery shopping.

"Huh? Sorry..." You mumble and tug a few strands of blonde hair behind your left ear. "No thanks." You add, take the bag she hands over to you and walk out of the store. You're late and you'll have to hurry if you want to get everything done before they arrive. At one time, you wouldn't have minded if they'd just dropped in sometime and you would just have waited until the food was ready. Or even cooked together.

But that was before.

That was when they still were your family before you decided that you wanted one of your own with Will, that charismatic detective who'd been so passionate and unrelenting in his pursuit for you. Now, you're still somewhat family but you also are a stranger, someone who no longer shares their everyday life. And as such, you feel obliged to have dinner ready and the house cleaned up as soon as they arrive.

You're not sure how you feel about all of this. Of course, you're looking forward to seeing everyone, because you're missing them dearly. But you're also scared. Scared that it might be awkward, scared that this evening will only prove to you that everyone has moved on, that they're getting on just fine without you. While you're still thinking about them every single day and sometimes, when Henry is asleep and the house is all quiet in the late afternoon sun, you find yourself longing for the buzz of cameras, the scuffle of reports scribbling on their notebooks. You find yourself missing the balance act of answering their questions with just the right mix of cool detachment and joviality.

You know you're so in for tinnitus one day, from the way you're turning the volume on your i-pod on maximum in those hours, just to drive that silence away. You hate silence. Silence makes you think. And somehow, somewhere along the way, thinking in general has come to equal thinking of her. Which you know is a bad thing. Because thinking of her makes you feel trapped in your own home and guilty. Guilty, because your first thought in the silence of the early morning and your last thought in the silence of the night isn't of your husband. It's of her. Of Emily.

You know all of this and still you can't stop thinking about her. Which is why you try not to think at all.

You tell yourself that you've waited long enough for her to make her move, that she had her chance. You're sure she was getting the signals you were sending. In your opinion, the only thing that would've been more obvious than all those glances, smiles and touches would've been to stride right across the bullpen and kiss her straight on the mouth. You've waited for months for her to take that final step and turn that flirt you had going on into something more. Something serious. You waited and waited. And waited. Nothing happened. And you got frustrated and insecure. Maybe you had read her signals wrong and she was just enjoying a casual flirt.

And then he came along. Straight-forward, determined and charming. He made it obvious that he wanted you and he was convinced that if only you let him try, he could make you want him too. And you decided that for once in your life, you wanted simple. To just go with the flow and see where it would lead you.

So now, here you are. Everything has been simple enough – the first date, the first kiss, his proposal, your wedding. And truth is: Simple is boring. But you won't let yourself think that. You won't let yourself acknowledge that just because things are simple doesn't have to mean that they're right as well. You won't yourself go down that lane, because the picture in your head, the picture of dark eyes and hair the colour of bitter chocolate comes closer and closer every time you do.

Dismissively you shake your head, your hair flying in a circle of gold in front of your eyes. This is pointless. You've got a four course dinner to prepare for seven people and a baby to get to sleep before your guests arrive. No, you really don't have time for what-ifs and could-haves. Right. And your hands aren't shaking at all as unlock your front door and think of seeing Emily again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

_Emily_

You stare out into the darkness, loud music thumping in your ear drums. This music serves two important purposes. It drowns out your thoughts, at the same time preventing attempts at conversation from your colleagues.

You are furiously reading your case brief, or so you want your colleagues to believe. You can't focus, even though your eyes are glued to the pages. You can't take anything in, but you can't turn away.

Something grabs you, on the pages, something leaps out in front of your eyes, piercing your heart. You repeat to yourself the last sentence, you have to read things 2,3,4 times these days for anything to sink in. It's not like you at all. You hate yourself for slipping like this.

_January 14__th, __the suspect has a previous conviction July 3rd 1997, and sentenced by the Judge to 3 years Juvenile detention_.

The only thing that sticks in your mind is this: There are 5 "J's" in that sentence. How can one single letter make you want to cry?

It's been 6 months since you last saw her, and you can't even read without allowing her to take over your every thought process. She has completely corrupted the English alphabet, how can you escape from that? Every word you speak, every word you hear, every word you read, every word you think. It's all hers. At this pathetic realisation you slam the folder shut, a little more forcefully than intended.

Garcia, sitting across the aisle, eyes you suspiciously. You take a breath, you have to keep cool. You smile reassuringly back in the direction of her worried gaze and remove the headphones.

"I have a headache." You say finally. It takes you a moment as you review your words in your head before you speak, to ensure there are no "J" words about to depart from your lips. You rub your head for effect hoping this seems genuine to her. She only smiles; you see pity in her eyes. It disgusts you. You look away.

You lean your head on the window and close your eyes, hoping the others will take it as a sign to leave you alone. Its not like you're missing anything, they are preoccupied reading and joking around, listening to music. No one seems intently focused on the case. It's a minor case really. Something the state police don't really need FBI input for at all. The BAU only became involved because it's a convenient excuse for a mass trip to go and see her. They are thrilled, all of them, to see her again. You too. But you're also something else.

The minute your head collides with the glass and you rest your eyes you feel the panic rising. This gesture somehow makes you look vulnerable, weak, the last thing you wanted. You know you need to look strong, together, normal. One thing you can't take is pity, concern, love. You don't know how, you never experienced it before. People looking at you, seeing something not right, caring, trying to make you feel better. It's foreign to you. And the thought that one of them might get close enough to see even half of the crazy thoughts in your head these last weeks terrifies you. If any of them knew how much time you spent thinking of her,

JJ, you sing in your head. Then stop yourself. No, not "JJ". Just "J." Since that day.

You knew it would kill you inside, you went anyway. Partly for appearances sake, and partly, simply, because she asked you to. You didn't want to see it for yourself. But you love her. You saw the look on her face when you hesitated as she asked you to be her bridesmaid. She was hurt, she didn't understand, and seeing her pain hurt you. You couldn't abandon her, no matter how much it killed you. After all, without her you are nothing, so what did it matter? And she looked so fucking beautiful, so happy. You wished she belonged to you.

Even though you couldn't stand it, somehow you needed to be there, to see it up close. So that you would see, know and believe the truth. She isn't yours. She was never yours. You needed to see it, so you could have that painful image to bring to mind over and over and over to remind yourself to let it go.

She doesn't want you, not anymore. Maybe she never did. Maybe she never meant the words she said. You hate the way that makes you feel so powerless. As if you had no choice about anything. Just like this trip. There was no way you could say no, no way for you to escape.

Even if there was, how could you have resisted this chance? No matter how much it hurt. The desire to protect yourself and the remaining shred of dignity you clung to was strong. But even stronger was that desire to see her once again.

You asked yourself, if you did have the choice, what is it you would have chosen? Would you choose to be happily free? Would you choose to give up that glimmer of hope? Could you?

You try desperately to make use of your above average compartmentalising skills. You've spent your life time building up this defence mechanism. It's always served you extremely well. So you take a moment, and begin segregating facts and feeling, memories, fears. It calms you, dissociating the thoughts and events, the pieces of your life. It's soothing at first.

You begin with the trip. This trip is just part of your job, that's all. No, not job. You scold yourself for using another of those 'J' words. Your career, the case. You can't even remember a single piece of information about this case or this trip. You're losing it. It doesn't even frighten you anymore, you're so far gone.

You spent the last hour staring at the fucking file, and you can't even list one basic fact about this case. But you could tell whoever asked that there were precisely 327 occurrences of the letter J in that document.

And just like that your highly, segregated dissociated, neatly organised, strictly compartmentalised world view that rules every aspect of your life has shattered. The whole idea behind it was keeping things shut off from one another, so that one thing could not affect the other, and so that nothing could affect you. JJ succeeded in a way that you've never known anyone or anything to be able to. She's completely shattered every compartment inside you head. It leaves you frighteningly defenceless.

How could you compartmentalise her anyway even if you still had the ability? Is she a colleague? A friend? A soul mate? Someone you miss? Someone dead who you mourn for?

You open your eyes to see that Garcia has moved from her spot and is sitting opposite you. You resent the sight of her sitting there, in JJ's spot. You want to scream at her to move. Why should Garcia be there? Taking your hand? With concern and compassion in her eyes? Knowing something, knowing your deepest desires, seeing how deeply this loss affected you? How can she be there seeing all that, and JJ not? It isn't fair.

"How's your headache?" She asks you finally.

"Fine." You answer.

"Emily." She says quietly.

You can't stand to hear it. But what can you do? Your whole team is here. You want to shut your eyes and go away. But also, somehow, you want her to see.

_You don't know what you want, Emily. _

You want to see her. You want to run. You want her to be happy. You want her to miss you. But it doesn't matter what you want. You have no choice.

"I'm going to the bathroom." you say finally, needing to get away from Garcia's searching eyes.

You realise as soon as you get there that you can't hide there for long. You can't do what you most want in that moment; To jump out of the window and float through the clouds. At least it would be what you most wanted to do if 'jump' wasn't one of those insidious 'J' words. You suppose you could merely fall out the window, that would be suitable.

You can't scream, the others will hear you. You can't cry, they will see. So you close your eyes tight, and in the dark spaces inside your head you silently scream, scream and scream.

Everything is so confusing, so frustrating, so painful. You're afraid of her, you realise. Afraid that you'll see it in her eyes. See how little you mean to her, how insignificant you are. When you feel like she is everything to you, how can it be that you are worth nothing to her?

You take a breath. Don't be afraid to look her in the eye, you silently encourage yourself. You've seen it before. You've survived it. You'll be alright. Emily, get a grip, please. She has moved on, she has a husband, a baby. You've moved on too.

You laugh bitterly to yourself. No, you haven't moved on. It was on this very jet (another j word) that she sat opposite you and told you what a good mother you'd make. You'd never seen it like that, not until she mentioned it. And since that day you've been dreaming about a family, a future. For the first time in your life you believed it could happen for you. With her.

And now you look to your future. You see that she is gone. You see nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

JJ

You might actually just make it. Henry's finally sleeping upstairs and the lamb is marinading in the fridge. The sweet potatoes are sliced and just waiting to be placed on the tin. A quick glance at the watch informs you that you've got three hours left to shower, vacuum the kitchen and the living room, get changed and put the dinner in the oven.

You wink at your own reflection in the mirror in the hall, quite pleased with yourself. The rush from the last few hours has driven every thought beyond meal preparations and time management far from your mind and for a second, you just want to enjoy the feeling of having managed to get everything done on time.

It feels good and you realize how much you actually miss the challenge of being confronted with a situation that's bigger than you. This is the most of a challenge you have faced ever since you gave birth to the baby sleeping peacefully upstairs.

And you know that tonight, you're just about to face an even bigger challenge, though a challenge of an entirely different matter. Tonight you'll see Emily again. And it makes you re-evaluate your newfound fondness of challenges. This is one challenge you'd just love to turn your back to.

But you don't really have much of a choice and so the only thing you can do is give yourself a little mental pep talk and try to lose yourself and your thoughts in a blur of activity once more as you start vacuuming the floor.

It's a hot day and your T-Shirt is sticking to you like a second skin. You can't wait for that shower. Suddenly you're pulled out of your thoughts by the ring of your doorbell. Who the heck- you start, but reach your front door and look through the glass triangle that's at just about shoulder height. You feel the blood drain from your head.

They're here. The team's here. But it's only 4pm and they said they'd be there at 7 o'clock! You don't know what to do, you're hyper aware of the sweat on your body, the old, ragged shirt you're wearing and the gash in your jeans, on the backside of your right thigh. They can't see you like this. You don't want to open that door. You contemplate acting as if you're not there and just having them come back at the time you set, but then Reid's voice drafts to your ears through the polished wood of your front door

"That's weird. Her car's in the driveway."

And that's when you know you'll have to open that goddamned door in front of you and you'll have to let them in, even though your hair's a mess, you stink and you're wearing torn, almost colourless clothes that you wouldn't even wear for a night-time trip to some anonymous drive thru in the city. And now, the first impression they're gonna get after months of not seeing you will be this. Emily is going to see you like this.

Sometimes you really hate your life.

But it is as it is and you push your discomfort aside, put on a wide, open smile and with a last, grim look at the vacuum cleaner on the floor beside you you swing open your front door.

A multitude of voices and body parts moves past you, Garcia wraps her arms around you as if you just came back from the dead and while they are talking among each other and to you at the same time, you discretely try to move the vacuum cleaner ourt of everybody's way. In the end you apologize and bend down quickly to pick the offending item of the floor. When you straighten your back again you meet her eyes. She's still standing in your door, just on the doorstep, caught in between inside and outside. She takes your breath away.

"Emily" is all you manage to say and your voice is heavy with words unspoken and feelings shoved to the far back of her mind.

"JJ" she acknowledges and it's a bit awkward, because you're standing there, vacuum cleaner in one hand, with an old, sweaty shirt on and she's standing opposite you, all immaculate beauty with her long dark hair and her spotless suit. You feel like an idiot. She's staring at you and it makes you wonder what she expected to find.

"Come in" you say and the warmth in your voice doesn't really cover the confusion over everything that's happening. You realize that on some level you're glad for the vacuum cleaner in your hand, because it saves you from hugging her. It's not that you don't want to. It's more that you want it too much and you're already off-balance enough without feeling the heat of her body against yours.

Your smile shaking on your face, you show her the way to your living room. For a second she just stands and stares, taking it all in before she sits down on the couch opposite to Morgan and next to Reid. You get everyone a drink and remember to inquire about their flight (Your mother would've been proud of you) before actually posing the question you really want an answer to

"So how come you're early? Case solved itself?"

Your laugh is shaky and you hate yourself for it. In a room full of profilers, keeping the shaking to a minimum just isn't good enough.

"Pretty much, yes." Hotch replies, before apologizing and explaining that the police caught the killer just as their plane touched the ground.

"We thought about waiting til 7, but we're all family after all, so we figured it might be alright if we just kind off dropped in. I hope our early arrival doesn't cause you any inconvenience, JJ?"

Well, what are you supposed to answer to that?

"No of course it doesn't. As long as you don't mind waiting for your food a bit longer?"

Everyone denies and someone mentions that they had snacks on the plane.

And from opposite the room you can feel Emily's dark gaze on you, whenever you open your mouth. And sometimes when you don't.

"Excuse me for a second, please. I really need to take quick shower and get changed, as you see, I was just cleaning…"

Everyone waves away your apology, telling you to go ahead, do as you please. Why do you suddenly feel like you were the stranger in your own place?


End file.
